Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Gordon arranged to meet them in the evening.

As dusk fell, the Blackwater River looked even dirtier and older. A fishing boat slowly approached from downstream and stopped on the riverbank a little over a hundred meters away from the ancestral home in Montfort.

The ship looked quite old. Gordon saw iron cages, fishing nets, ropes, and several unusually large wooden barrels on the deck, and wondered what they were used to hold.

Five men disembarked: old Buzz, three burly sailors, and Peter followed behind, looking like a dejected prisoner.

"Gordon." Peter strode over to Gordon's side. "I've brought the men. You'd better really find a large group of Deepclaws to cooperate. These guys aren't joking; I've heard Old Baz's harpoon can kill someone in one swift motion..."

Gordon looked in the direction he was referring to and saw that Old Baz did indeed have a harpoon on his back. Noticing Gordon's gaze, Old Baz gave a very unfriendly smile.

Faced with these burly fellows, Gordon had nothing of value but a sealed bottle in his arms containing a few drops of water.

For him, this water might be a huge sum of money, a way to solve his student loan problems, and maybe even a way to never have to sleep on a wooden bed again.

"Don't worry," Gordon said.

"I can't rest easy," Peter said anxiously. "You have no idea how many lies I told you today, paid 5 silver coins out of my own pocket, and promised old Buzz that if this news is false, I'll hand you over to him."

"I have two legs."

“I have it too, and it’s longer,” Peter said.

Vera stood on the shore and looked at the iron cage on the boat.

"Not enough," she said.

  

"What's not enough?" Old Baz glanced at the sailors on either side.

"Cages. Too few. They can't hold live water monkeys. And water monkeys that aren't alive aren't worth anything," Vera lamented.

"You need to tell me?" Old Baz laughed. "Miss Hunter, you can kill Otherworldly beings, but you know absolutely nothing about this trade."

"You..." Vera frowned.

"It's okay, I know a little bit," Gordon said.

Old Baz finally looked at him.

"So you're the one who boasts about being able to...fish out Deepclaws?" Old Baz said meaningfully. "I've caught them before. Dealing with them requires the right timing, good luck, and sometimes you even have to throw a dog into the water first."

"Don't worry, they'll walk right into our trap." Gordon began to prepare.

Old Baz was too lazy to argue anymore. He'd been navigating the Blackwater River for thirty years; he didn't need a college student to teach him what water monkeys were. These otherworldly beings were incredibly cunning, adept at enduring hunger, and always alone. They were cautious and shrewd, only knowing how to hide under bridges, watching people from behind.

"If there's nothing... then we've wasted our time..." a sailor stared at Peter.

Peter felt a chill run down his spine and began to wonder if it was too late to say he wasn't familiar with Gordon.

He had already planned his escape route: first, he would say there was an emergency at the academy; then he would go back to his dormitory, pack his things, apply for leave to visit his family, and return to his homeland for a year. Once everyone in Lundnim had forgotten about this, he could come back and start anew.

Gordon took a glass bottle from his pocket. The bottle opening was sealed tightly with wax, and there was only a little water inside.

These were what he had instructed his butler, Evans, to collect. In the twilight, the water looked perfectly still, and there was nothing strange about it.

"That's it?" Old Baz squinted.

"That's it."

"You called us here just to see this?"

Gordon said nothing, but simply opened the sealing wax and swung his arm to throw it into the water.

Thump...!

If a water bottle falls into the river, nothing will happen.

The Blackwater River continues to flow as before.

The sailor looked at old Baz.

Old Baz looked at Gordon.

This seemed to be turning into a huge joke. Two minutes later, Peter had already planned his escape route to his aunt's house in Cobenhaven and even decided which port to change ships at.

Gordon didn't move at all. He remained calm because, in his eyes, that drop of water had already spread out, like a net, knowing how to spread on its own in the Blackwater River.

Suddenly, the atmosphere became tense. A sailor looked down and realized that the hair on his head was standing on end.

Immediately afterwards, a cone-shaped pattern suddenly appeared on the water's surface in the distance, flowing against the current.

Gordon focused intently and soon saw several grayish-white things appear, swimming close to the water's surface and heading straight for where the glass bottle had fallen.

One.

Three paths.

Seven paths.

...And then it became countless. Ripples turned into undercurrents, and undercurrents into waves. The monsters came from different places, yet their goals were strangely the same.

That swimming style… without a doubt, it was a water monkey. Old Baz was shaken. The people at the old fish market never liked catching water monkeys; they weren't worth much, but they could easily cost someone a hand. But now it was different; they were lining up to be caught!

Peter immediately abandoned his escape plan. His beloved homeland could not wait for its prodigal son to return home.

"Awooo—" A Deepclaw Demon crawled to the shore and shook off the water.

It was less than two meters from Old Baz's legs, but it didn't look at anyone; it just stared affectionately at the water.

Its gaze was extremely eerie, fixed intently, and it emitted bursts of hissing, as if calling out for something...

Vera walked over.

One sword.

laugh!

The black sword pierced its head.

With remarkably clean movements, Vera tossed it ashore as if it were a piece of trash.

And then, even more water monkeys, ignoring the deaths of their companions, continued to rush forward. It was as if they were under some kind of blind, frenzied spell; they darted out from all directions, both excited and dangerous, but they were only interested in that drop of water, ignoring everything else.

"Get to work! Get to work!" Old Baz roared.

This roar woke everyone up.

The sailors finally realized what was happening and roared in response.

Two sailors grabbed harpoons, while another went to open the iron cage.

Business is now open!

They sailed close to the unsuspecting Deepclaw horde and began to fish.

Seize them! Drag them up! Smash them unconscious! Put them in a cage!

Their movements became faster and more skillful...

The water splashed incessantly, chains clanged, harpoons pierced flesh, and the Deepclaw demon roared. The scene before them was crude and stenchy, yet it also made one's heart race, possessing a primal beauty reminiscent of human hunting.

The few iron cages were quickly filled; even if their arms were broken, they still wouldn't fit. The sailors had no choice but to kill more Deepclaws and then haul them up with fishing nets.

They showed no sign of resistance throughout the entire process, simply dancing an ancient dance in the middle of the river that only they understood, praising what was truly sacred in their hearts... until the last one died.

Vera shook the black blood off her sword and glanced at old Baz.

"Bringing two more cages will earn you more money," she said disdainfully.

Old Baz didn't retort; he finally stopped looking at the river.

"Today's a good deal." Old Baz turned to Gordon and spoke slowly, his rough voice carrying something he himself didn't realize: respect.

"Now, Mr. Buzz," Gordon said amicably, "we need to settle our accounts."